


The Other Duck

by quartetship



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, 進撃！巨人中学校 | Shingeki! Kyojin Chuugakkou | Attack on Titan: Junior High
Genre: Carnival, First Love, Fluff, Love lost and found, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've had it all this time, and. Well. I never forgot about you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Duck

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for [otherduck](otherduck.tumblr.com) as part of an art trade we did a while back. (I'm sorry I'm so slow!)
> 
> Thank you for drawing for me, and I hope you like this silly little piece of fluff! Enjoy!
> 
> \--

In the years between the tension of prepubescence and the slow drag of high school, life is a strange time for anyone. It is a time that many people labor to forget, but not Marco Bodt. Never had there been a more memorable time in his life.

It was the summer after he turned fourteen that he spent a few days at a local carnival. Having recently moved into town and with very few friends, the days between one school year and the next were boring, and he had little else to occupy his time. So when his mother suggested that he go to the carnival, he bargained with himself. 

On one hand, it was a cheap carnival with a circus theme, complete with poorly trained acrobats and a smelly petting zoo. But on the other, it was an evening junk food and a few hours of distraction on his parents’ dime, so there was really no reason not to. 

He went, and after the very first night there, he was infinitely glad that he did. 

It was there, working at a ticket sales and concession booth that he first laid eyes on a boy, about his age, grinning like a wolf as he passed a bag of cotton candy across the counter to a gaggle of pretty girls. They hardly paid him any mind, but Marco was awestruck. He wandered over to buy a snack, despite the fact that he wasn't hungry in the slightest, and shivered when the boy finally looked his way. 

And when he introduced himself, Marco nearly swallowed his own tongue. But Jean Kirschtein - a name to match his features, if ever Marco could have imagined one - seemed just as happy to make Marco’s acquaintance. 

And from that moment forward, Marco was caught in a pull he couldn't resist.

Jean was magnetic, loud and boisterous and beautifully brash. For Marco, who was typically quiet and reserved, he had never lived such a brightly lit life as he did when he was close to Jean, never had so much fun. Every morning and all day, his thoughts were of the carnival, and how quickly he could return, how soon he could see the pretty boy behind the booth there. It was his first real crush, and his mother prodded and teased him about it. 

But with his chores finished, she gave him money to take the bus, night after night, and spend his time under the stars and the lights of the carnival, chasing after a boy who was very much chasing him back. 

One night there, Jean made a show of taking Marco around to game after game, winning him prizes and grinning, wide and toothy at Marco’s blush as he piled them into his arms. But nothing made Marco smile brighter than the prize Jean won him at the water gun shooting range, a large, obnoxiously yellow plush duck, with a tiny top hat atop its head. 

Marco hugged it to his chest, only a little embarrassed by just how much he adored it. Jean had to return to his post for the evening shortly thereafter, but Marco lingered close, perched on an empty seat at Jean’s booth, warm all the way down to his toes despite the evening breeze, reveling in the lingering looks Jean would give him, every time he found the chance. 

Marco’s first kiss happened that summer. It was after one of Jean’s shifts, their fingers laced together as Jean led Marco up to the top of the crows nest overlook, at the top of the crew’s maintenance station. They would surely be discovered and likely be chastised, but for some reason it only made the moment more exhilarating, as Jean pressed warm, soft lips against Marco’s, the sights and sounds of the carnival the backdrop as Marco let his heart slip fully away for the very first time. 

He couldn't have asked for a more perfect moment, a more perfect summer. He could not have asked for a better first taste of romance.

They spent every summer evening together that year, Jean sneaking Marco in on the nights that he couldn't pay his admission, arms locked and fingers sometimes wound together as they enjoyed the attractions, and their attraction to one another. 

But when summer ended, the carnival did as well. 

Marco was certain that he would see Jean again the following summer, that the carnival would return the way that county fairs did, year after year. But when Jean told him that carnivals didn't work the same way - that they traveled the country, and might not be back in the area for years or even decades - Marco felt his heart sink in his chest. 

Clinging to the stuffed animal Jean had won for him, Marco watched the carnival leave town after his last goodbye to Jean, crushingly aware of the fact that he would likely never see him again. Puppy love wasn't meant to last, he learned as he got older, but even as he finished his adolescence and moved forward with his life as an adult, he never forgot that first glimpse at romance. 

He kept the soft, plush duck on a shelf in his bedroom, looking at it fondly every so often, reflecting on memories of a beautiful summer spent with a beautiful boy.

\--

When at age twenty four, Marco heard whispers around town that the same carnival was returning to the area, he couldn't believe the way his stomach back-flipped. 

It was silly, the way he had clung to the memories there, the memories of Jean. They barely knew each other, really, only acquaintances at the age of fourteen. The first blush of love is foolishness, to most people. And yet, when he saw signs going up at the bank and grocery store windows for the coming carnival, he found himself buying tickets, just in case. 

He was going purely for the nostalgia, he told himself. It was unlikely that Jean would even be there; he had probably moved on from carnival work, or at the very least, moved on with his life and forgotten about Marco. Yet Marco couldn't resist the chance, just the outside opportunity to see Jean again. 

Even if it was just a glimpse. 

The night before the carnival, Marco took his worn, plush duck down off of its shelf in his bedroom and ran a hand through the polyester fur. 

Whatever happened, it would be worth the few dollars and the trip downtown. Just in case. 

\--

Walking the paths of the carnival brought happy memories sharply back into focus. There was nothing different, save for the unfamiliar faces walking those paths with him. The backdrop was the same, the rides, attractions, all just as they had been years before - and Marco saw a vaguely familiar face behind one of the operator booths. 

Creeping closer, Marco kept to himself, not chancing a wave until he could be sure of what - of who - he was seeing. But once he was closer to the booth, there was no denying it. With the same razor sharp smile and wild, flashy gestures, Jean had hardly changed.

But he was older. He was taller. And if it were possible, he was even cuter than Marco remembered him. 

It took every ounce of courage Marco could summon to call his name. 

“Jean?” 

Face screwed up at Marco’s undoubtedly unfamiliar adult voice, Jean looked around with a snap of his head in either direction, until his eyes landed on Marco, waving shyly. Eyes going wide, Jean stared for a moment, and then he was leaping across the table, an older employee’s cries after him going unheard. 

He barreled toward Marco and threw arms around him, laughter like the bark of an excited dog bubbling out of him as he chanted his name. 

“Marco! Marco Bodt, I can't believe it! God, how the hell are you, it's been so long!” He nearly jumped up and down, arms still wrapped around Marco’s shoulders. When he finally turned him loose, he clapped Marco on the arm, looking him up and down like he could hardly believe his eyes. 

That much Marco could relate to. 

“I'm good, I'm great - h-how about you?” Marco stutter excitedly, finding difficulty with forming sentences. Jean laughed again, a little shaky as well. 

“I'm good, just. You know, working here for the summer. Same shit, different decade.” 

It was so casual, their conversation. But it didn't feel that way. There was something heavy between them, and though neither of them would speak it into being, it seemed that neither of them could ignore it. Jean was the one who finally said something.

“God, I can't believe you're here! I mean, I hoped you might - but I didn't know if…” He trailed off, still smiling, but biting his lip hard, like he'd already let too much slip. Marco stepped forward, reaching out to squeeze Jean’s arm reassuringly. 

The last thing he wanted was for Jean to believe that he'd been alone, in hoping to see Marco there. 

“I'm really glad to see you here, too,” he said truthfully. “I know you've probably gotta get back to work, but--”

Indeed, their conversation was cut short, as Jean’s superior all but dragged him back to his post behind the booth he was staffing. Jean nodded toward the stand, signaling Marco to follow. Marco did, still grinning like an absolute idiot, love struck all over again at the impish smile he'd fallen for as kid. 

Thankfully, Jean still seemed equally smitten, all those years later.

“Meet you after my shift is up?” He asked, more of a suggestion. Leaning across the counter, he was nearly face to face with Marco as he smirked. “Unless you've got something else going on.”

“I'll be right here,” Marco replied, and the way Jean grinned when he made that promise made something in his stomach flip. It was a faintly familiar feeling, but Marco couldn't wait to see if maybe, this time, he could linger in it for a little longer. 

\--

That evening, it was as if no time had passed at all. Most of the carnival rides were the same; Marco was fairly certain that they hadn't even been repainted, in the decade since he'd seen them last. On any other day, he might have worried that the aging mechanics of the machines would give out and put he and the other riders in danger. 

But he had more pleasant things to think about, that night. 

Jean’s laugh was just as loud and bright as Marco remembered, bursting through sharp smiles and pooling at the corners of his eyes in wetness he would have to wipe away. Marco’s chest fluttered every time Jean cackled, and nearly leapt from his chest when Jean draped an arm across the back of the seat they share, on the ferris wheel. Jean smiled at him, an unspoken question in his eyes. 

Marco replied by settling closer against him, a happy sigh his only audible answer.

They spent the evening that way, retracing steps and reliving moments that anyone else may not have even remembered. But both of them recalled their good times together a decade earlier with perfect clarity, and riding those same rides and traipsing through the same carnival midway paths all those years later felt just as wonderful as it had the first time. Maybe even better, given how long both of them had waited. 

Once again, wherever Jean led, Marco followed. He couldn't imagine it any other way, didn't want anything other than to follow the beautiful boy who had become a gorgeous young man. Arms linked, they made their way around the carnival, faces lit by flashing lights and the full, bright moon.

It was obvious within minutes that Jean was showing off, paying their way around and using his employee pass to get them extra ride credits and snacks. Marco bit back giggles at the way he put on a show, but was admittedly impressed. Then again, Jean could have done almost anything, and Marco likely would have smiled from ear to ear. 

It was probably only natural that Jean was adept at carnival games, given his summer job. But his skill was just as sharp as Marco recalled, even more apparent as he zeroed in on the targets of the water shooting game, clearly playing to win. And win he did, swearing excitedly when the game operator announced that he could choose his prize from the toys and t-shirts hanging behind him.

“That one,” Jean asked of the man behind the counter, and a moment later the elder man was passing a large, stuffed duck with a large, pink bow on its head across the table and into Jean’s hands. 

Looking triumphant, Jean handed it to Marco. “For you,” he grinned, “to go with the other one.”

“I still have that one,” Marco admitted, blurting it out to keep from yelping, as a sudden sob threatened to escape him. “I… I've had it all this time, and. Well. I never forgot about you.” Hugging the duck to his chest, Marco could feel his face burning. Jean didn't seem like he was of any mind to tease him for it. He was scratching at the back of his head, nodding, confidence slipping for the first time all evening. 

“Same, actually,” he confessed. “I always hoped we’d come back through here. I wanted to see you again, even if it was just for a few minutes. And I… I've been wanting to win you a duck to go with the other one for ten years, now.”

Stepping forward so that the soft, plush duck was the only barrier between them, Marco smiled behind it. He let a hand fall to bump against Jean’s, threading their fingers together. Jean leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Marco’s, grinning. 

“Awfully long time to wait, for a duck.” Marco chuckled. Jean squeezed his hand and shrugged. 

“You were more than worth the wait.” He brought his free hand up to close his fingers around the back of Marco’s neck, thumb tracing slow circles over the skin there. “And you're worth as many ducks as I could ever win.” There was a breath of shared laughter, and then Marco was leaning in, pressing his lips softly to Jean’s, for the kiss they'd both been waiting for, for what may as well have been their entire lives. 

A moment later they parted, hands still lingering on one another as they sighed in unison. Marco nipped at Jean’s lips once more, barely able to believe Jean was real in front of him, much less his to kiss, at least for the evening. They'd figure the rest out, later. For the night, all that mattered was the moment. He smiled. 

“You've got a lot of ducks to win, then.”

Jean nodded. “You comin’ back sometime this week to see me win you another?” 

“I'll come back every day, as long as you're here.” Marco said. Jean wound arms around his neck, breathing a quiet laugh. 

“Sounds like a deal.” He leaned in to steal another kiss, a kiss Marco gladly gave him. Pulling away again, he whispered against Marco’s lips. “So glad I found you again, Marco.”

“So glad you came back,” Marco replied. “Let's make next time sooner than ten years from now, yeah?”

Jean nodded. “How does tomorrow night sound?”

Marco smiled, hugging his new stuff animal before leaning forward to let Jean hug him. “Sounds like a date.”

They strolled slowly back to the carnival entrance, hand in hand, Marco happily holding his long awaited prize in one, and round, stuffed duck, in the other. 


End file.
